Feathers, Fur and No AC, Oh My!

     We went to see my parents a couple of weeks ago for the 4th of July holiday. We had a great time swimming, watching fireworks and going to the annual Teague 4th of July Rodeo. The kids had a big time and so did we.

Helping GG make a flag cake..delicious and pretty  

 The little water bug

The 4-wheeler…anytime they heard it start up, 

Cooper and Ace were out there begging for a ride 

 Ready for fireworks

 
    When it was finally time to load up and head home we fit everything we had brought and made room for a few more passengers….Dad has decided to get out of the chicken business, so we were going to take his 6 chickens home with us. So, while I finished getting the boys' things together, Dad and Dalton caught the chickens, put them in a cage and loaded them into the back of the car. After that it was a race to get on the road because chickens can really stink up a place if you aren't careful.

      Finally the boys were strapped in, Max was in place beside them and we were off, about 11 am. It was already getting warm outside but we weren't worried. We decided to take the 'more scenic' route through Stephenville, instead of our usual concrete one up the interstate and through Ft. Worth. It turned out to be a great decision in light of what happened next.

Double stack of chickens

       About an hour into the trip, just on the other side of Waco, I noticed that the air wasn't as cool as it should be. I pointed it out to Dalton and he agreed. It kept getting warmer and warmer until we were sure the AC was no longer working. We looked at each other with panic in our eyes and kept driving…a little faster. No AC on a July day with two kids, a dog and 6 chickens was not an ideal situation to say the least!
      The boys were napping in the back so we rode with the windows up and the air blowing full blast for a while. As we pulled through the next town Dalton attempted to roll the window down for some fresh air. What resulted was a flurry of feathers and chicken smell wafting up to the front and blowing around our heads.  Everyone was perspiring by this time and with the windows down the feed sacks that we had put over the chicken cages to keep the smell contained also went whooshing around the car. We started laughing, for fear that we might cry if we didn't!
       I fought off the temptation to get into a really fowl mood ; )  and we sped along, happy to see that the speed limits on those roads was now 75. We also reflected on the good fortune of having taken this route, which gave us opportunities to roll down the windows as we went through little towns, and provided us with a nice view. If we'd have taken the other route, the concrete and fast traffic would have increased the sweating and irritation even more. Dalton tried to keep his eyes on the road because he said that every time that he looked in his rearview mirror all he saw were chickens panting and looking pitiful.
      I knew that once we stopped this crazy train it would be hard to get back going again, so we opted to keep on trucking until we got to Stephenville…only an hour from the house. We pulled into Stephenville with cranky boys, a panting dog and hot chickens. Not too mention we all had tomato red faces! It was not a pretty sight. Our first stop was Sonic. It was happy hour so we each got some refreshing tea and juice for the boys. The chickens and dog got a water.

Fresh air for everyone

     Then it was on to the park for some fresh air. We unloaded the boys, the dog and the caged chickens. Dalton attempted to give the chickens some water but they weren't having it. The dog drank his share though and the boys enjoyed being out of the car. We stayed there as long as we could and then it was time to load up again.

     We stripped the boys down to their underwear/diaper, gave the dog one last drink and cranked up our sweat-mobile for the last leg of our trip. It went by pretty easily, considering all that we had going on. At one point I tried to turn Dora on the computer but the roar of the windows was too much for little Dora and a silent kids' show just doesn't work.

A cup of juice makes the hot ride easier

     Finally we pulled into our home…oh so glad to be home! We peeled ourselves off of the sticky seats and let the boys have some fun in the backyard with the water hose. The chickens survived just fine too.
     Once again a simple trip turned into an adventure of crazy proportions. I'm not sure why this sort of thing always happens to us, maybe to keep us laughing, maybe so I'll have something to blog about, or maybe because we always put ourselves into situations that lend themselves to disaster! Either way, we survived with a story to tell.

"Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." 1 Thess 5:16-18

Awww Shucks

   This post is pas due. I should have written it a few weeks ago, but it’s taken this long for us to be able to look back and laugh at the tragedy of the corn, instead of sinking into a depression when we recalled what happened.

     As you know from previous blogs we were really excited about our first ever corn crop. Dalton got the area fenced off, he plowed the ground and made rows evenly spaced and very straight, planted the seeds and we watched it grow. From the first green sprouts our excitement grew but we kept it in check in case it didn’t make it. It did make it and kept growing and growing, and so did our excitement. Finally ears were visible and we watched the silks carefully so that we knew when to pick.

Proud of their pickins

      When we thought it was close we picked a few ears. Some were ok, others were bare…more time needed. We did this for about a week, waiting for the perfect time to harvest. Finally the time had come….but then it rained….a lot. Good, we thought, more moisture equals juicier corn, right? So we waited and it rained again. Finally by the end of the week we could get in there and harvest. The boys and I went out on a Friday morning and picked the corn from two rows. We were excited about the amount and even gave some away to our friends and Dalton’s parents. I even put some up in the freezer.

      The next day was the official ‘harvest day.’ We thought about having a few friends out to help but decided against it….thank goodness! We got an early start and harvested all of the corn. There was  a lot of it! We were so proud and excited and I took lots of photos of our successful crop.

Dalt picked, Cooper drove the corn to the yard

Our crop

Milk break!

     Then we tasted it. It was tough and chewy, not crisp and juicy. Uh oh. We thought maybe we cooked it wrong so we tried grilling some…same result. That’s when the depression set it, we’d waited too long to pick our corn.

First we cut the corn off the cob. Then we heat it with butter to steaming. 

Cool and put into freezer bags 

This picture is before we tasted the corn…hence the smile.

       In my despair I called my Mom, in hopes of hearing that it wasn’t my fault, that it would get better, etc etc. She was sad for us and said it sounded like it was a little old, but then again it could be just a bad year. I liked that idea better. She suggested I talk to Dad. So I did. He told me what signs he used to let him know the corn was ready; we had done the same thing. He told me to call PaPaw because he would know for sure and could give us advice for next year. I did NOT want to call PaPaw. He’s the master after all, how can I tell him that we ruined our whole patch of corn because we picked it too late. I was trying to be an apprentice of sorts, after all.

      But I finally swallowed my pride and called him up. I talked to Grandma first. She said it was probably old but not to feel bad. She said she understood because she and Mom had once canned corn until 2 in the morning when Mom was a kid and it all soured. She said she had been depressed then. Ok, I felt a little better. Then it was time to talk to PaPaw. I meekly told him what the corn tasted and felt like. He said that it sounded like we picked it 3-4 days too late. I was devastated. How could 3-4 days make that much of a difference? But then he said that it takes a little while to get the feel of when to pick the corn, but once you learn you know forever. He even said that he’d made the same mistake before (but somehow I think he only said that to make me feel better.) I ended the call sort of comforted, determined to be successful next year, and ready to get rid of any trace of corn left! We put up several bags…hopefully it will be good in soups and stews.  Our joy was gone though. As we sat on the patio shucking corn we were silent and sullen, not excited and glowing as we had been that morning.

Ready to haul! 

     What was left of the corn after we put all we could manage up, we fed to the horses and chickens over the next few days. They were very appreciative and enjoyed it immensely. To help me vent my frustration I started chopping down a section of corn stalks a day and throwing them to the horses. I wanted to get them all down before anyone came over and saw our patch and asked about it!

      I think the worst part was having to call and text people we’d given corn to and tell them that it was not very good. What a bummer! But we had to do it so that they didn’t think it was our best work and we expected it to taste like that.

      So that is the saga of the corn. What was once a glowing dream in our eyes became a black mark on the pages of our gardening adventure. Next year though…..next year.

 In other gardening news, we did have a good onion crop.

“For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven….a time to plant and a time to pluck up what is planted.” Ecclesiastes 3:1-2

(I didn’t know how literal this verse really was.)